


03 November 1977

by postjentacular



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, MWPP, Marauders' Era, The Prank
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-15
Updated: 2016-11-15
Packaged: 2018-08-31 06:21:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8567506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/postjentacular/pseuds/postjentacular
Summary: The clichéd after-The-Prank™ Rite of Passage which all Wolfstar fanfic authors must go through.
It’s no longer Sirius ’n’ Remus, Moony ’n’ Padfoot; they’ve done all the fighting they can, now they’re just two wizards who share a dorm, a James and a Peter.





	

“James!”  Remus almost fell over his friend who was frozen, statute-like, in the middle of the Great Hall doorway.  Swarms of students swerved around the pair who were standing between them and their breakfasts, “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I dunno,” James muttered absently, “Nick’s probably somewhere around the Common Room.”

“James,”  Remus rested his hands on James’ shoulders and gave him a gentle shake, catching his eye, “what’s wrong with you?”

“She said ‘yes’,” he said to no one in particular as they made their way into the hall.

“She said ‘yes’?” Remus repeated uncertainly.

“Yes,” James confirmed, “She said ‘yes!’”

“ _She_ said yes?”

James bounced his way down the hall between the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor tables gathering momentum with every step, repeatedly confirming to Remus that, in fact, yes, _She_ had indeed said ‘ _Yes_ ’.  He slipped into an empty space across from Peter and Sirius; Remus gave him a congratulatory pat on the shoulder as he moved to leave the trio for his usual Thursday seat with the Prewett twins.  “Moony,” Peter called as Remus left, “I’ll walk with you to Transfiguration.”

“Sure,” Remus nodded, “but I’m not doing your homework for you, this time.”

“Jokes on you, Rem’, I’ve already done it,” Peter retorted, “...only maybe you could check it?  Minnie’ll dock me at least twenty points if it’s wrong again.”  Remus reluctantly agreed as he moved down the table and folded himself between Fabian and Gideon.

“So,” said Sirius, gesticulating with a sausage at James, “what is the meaning of this, Prongs?”  he waved the sausage theatrically to indicate he meant James’ very being, “why so… bouncy?”

“Shesaidyes,” James rushed out in a single breath, “Lily-said-yes-and-we-have-a-date-tonight,” he continued with just a little less haste.  “Oh shit,”  he slowed as the realisation dawned, “Sorry Pads, I’ll ask her if we can move it ‘til tomorrow.”

Sirius’ eyebrow arched pointedly, “James Bartemius Pot–”

“That’s not my middle na–”

“–I am planning on having at least another eighteen birthdays, whereas Lily Evans will only give you another, hmm, twelve chances, tops; so you will have that date and you will woo that redhead – proper wooing, mind you, none of this talking about Quiddich nonsense you seem to think the ladies like – and Wormy here will drink your share of the Ogdens and then you can replace it for tomorrow night’s Birthday Redux.”

Peter shuffled his eggs around on his plate while his cheeks blushed a little redder than usual, “Sirius…”  Sirius snapped his head around to stare down, Peter,  “...I sorta have a–”

“Peter Wilfreda Pettigrew!"

“That’s not my–”

“–Peter _Gertrude_ Pettigrew, are you saying you have a date?”  Peter nodded, not taking his eyes from his plate of eggs.  “Oh Prongs,”  Sirius cried dramatically, “our little Wormy is all grown up.”

“Shut up,” Peter elbowed Sirius none too gently in the ribs, “I only agreed as I thought there was no way in hell Evans would say yes to him.”

“Oi!” James rebuked.

“No offense,” Peter offered in conciliation.

“Cut the boy some slack, Prongs, he was just playing the odds,” said Sirius.  “Besides, this gives me the perfect opportunity for a little present to myself, _Happy Birthday Sirius, Love Sirius_.”

“Please just leave the sock under your own bed this time,” pleaded James, “the house elves must think I’m some kind of super-horny degenerate.”

“Oh no, not that, not this time,” a mischievous gleam twinkled in Sirius’ eye which set James on edge.

“Just not Snivellus, Pads,” James groaned, “give him a break.”

#

Outside the Scottish weather had taken to its winter colours with reckless abandon, the howling wind, horizontal rain and rolling thunder only just seeping through the otherwise impenetrable windows of Gryffindor tower.  The fire – well stoked by House Elves – did an admirable job of keeping the dorm cosy and Remus was more than comfortable holed up in a rare moment of solitude with only a battered copy of Moby Dick for company.  The door briefly opened and then quickly slammed shut; the fact that the door slammed at all meant it wasn’t Peter, and the slam wasn’t followed by a litany of particularly creative swearing so it wasn’t James either.

Remus didn’t look up.

The air in the room almost rippled with the particularly violent thump of Sirius landing on his own bed swiftly followed by his hushed casting of silencing charms.  Only then did Remus allow himself to lift his eyes from his book but all there was to see was the wall of maroon curtain.  Remus returned to his book.

After another chapter or three, another sound joined the crackling of the logs in the fireplace and the pattering of the rain on the window pane.  At first it was a sob – just one – which had escaped from the otherwise silenced bed to Remus’ left; then a shout, “Reg”, a long wail and under it all the juddering, shaky breaths of a body racked with tears.  This would usually be the point where Peter or James would step in; Peter’s help left a mountain of chocolate frog wrappers on the floor which, inevitably, one of them would slip on in the rush for breakfast the next morning.  If James were on hand then the next day, without fail, someone somewhere would find themselves the latest Marauders’ victim.

Remus tried to ignore it, he knew he should; that’s how they were now, after _that_.  It’s no longer Sirius ’n’ Remus, Moony ’n’ Padfoot; they’ve done all the fighting they could, now they are just two wizards who share a dorm, a James and a Peter.  Remus, however, had never been particularly good at taking his own advice and just as his friends couldn’t sit back and watch him tear himself apart every twenty-eight days, he couldn’t sit there on any one of the other twenty-seven and watch them.

He climbed from his bed and took the two small steps to Sirius’ bed, he gripped the curtain with one hand and took a final breath to top up the famed Gryffindor courage the Sorting Hat had assured him he had in spades.  He steeled himself for the vitriol – the snap to tell him to go away, maybe a stinging hex, the strengthened silencing charms – and pulled back the curtain gently.  It didn’t come.  Sirius was curled on the bed, foetal, _broken_.  His knuckles bled raw where he’d bitten them to stop the screams coming out, eyes red unable to produce any more tears.  Thumping himself on the side of his head with the heel of his palm he didn’t even notice Remus, anyone, was there.

He doesn’t stop to think.  Remus slipped behind the curtain, over the blanket and pulled Sirius close.  With a flick of his wand he healed Sirius’ knuckles and then wrapped his long, scarred fingers around Sirius’ wrist first slowing, then stopping the punches.  A second flick of his wand cast a lumos, bathing the two of them in a gentle nightlight.

Hours later – long after curfew had been and gone – James returned to the dorm.  The faint yellow glow seeping out from Sirius’ curtains was indication enough that his brother was waiting up to hear the sordid details of his date, _and,_ James thought, _the details would be sordid whether Lily corroborated them or not_.

“Pads,” he hissed as he pulled back the curtain, “Pads!”  He immediately fell silent at the scene.  Remus, as wide awake as the day before any and every exam, shushed James with a finger to his lips.  James took a quick look at Sirius still huddled around Remus, his hands clutched at Remus’ chest like he would never – and could never – let go.  “What happened?”  murmured James.

“Not sure,” Remus replied his own voice barely above a whisper, “something with Regulus, I think.”

“Is he okay?”

“He will be,” Remus nodded, although if he were assuring James or himself he wasn’t yet sure.

“Are you?”  James arched his eyebrow in a decidedly Sirius manner.  Remus looked down at the person wrapped around him before nodding.  “Do you need me to…?”  James began.

Remus shook his head, “ _We’re_ fine.”

James stepped back and let the curtain fall closed, before climbing into his own bed with a smile.  All was well.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Standard fanfic disclaimer:** If you recognise it, it belongs to J.K. Rowling; this is just fanfic for nothing other than entertainment purposes.


End file.
